Chapter 7
seven
AMANTHA
Iheaved the suitcase onto the conveyor belt. Bending down to untie my sneakers, I tried not to gag thinking about the filthy airport floors. I placed my shoes in the provided plastic tote, emptied my pockets, and out of habit, reached to remove my wedding ring.
It wasn’t there.
Despite a year-long separation and finalized divorce, becoming a single woman again felt unreal. All of it still felt distant—including the foreign settlement numbers in my bank account. Maybe I needed more time to process it.
I shook off the unsettled feeling, trying to ignore the nakedness of my ring finger.
I shuffled forward in my white cotton socks to join the airport security line. My eyes stung as if they were bloodshot. The plane would leave right after dawn, which made for a very grumpy morning.
Kendra had decided to send the team to the nationwide Art Curator’s Conference for the weekend. This year, the annual event was in San Francisco. Despite my exhaustion, a tiny nudge of excitement thrummed in my stomach.
Ever since working with Barbara, I had been dying to go. I only wished I was more well rested to be able to fully absorb it all.
After the security scan, I grabbed my bags, tied my sneakers, and shrugged back into my black zippered hoodie.
I walked in the direction of the gate, thankful to have a solid rubber barrier again between my socks and the gross airport floor.
Kate and Blythe had promised to meet me there.
Unfortunately, Val would be waiting at the gate as well.
Gag.
While I liked to see the best in people, Val was argumentative and rude at best. My patience with him was on wafer-thin ice.
My sneakers squeaked against the black and white tiled floors, the sound accompanied by my suitcase’s whirring wheels. O’Hare International Airport looked stunning. Glass archways curved overhead, faint whispers of pink introducing the sunrise. I yawned.
Coffee. Must have coffee.
My zombie instincts guided me through crowds of passengers toward a coffee shop. Waiting in line, I prayed there was enough time before they called my boarding group. A chiming ringtone vibrated in my back pocket.
“Hello?” I yawned.
“Sweetie! Did you make it?” Mom’s voice was chipper, despite the early hour.
“Yes. I’m waiting outside my gate for coffee. Oh, please don’t forget to send Anthony’s research paper with him to school. It’s the Abraham Lincoln one taped to the fridge.”
“Already packed. I saw it on the calendar.”
“Thanks, Mom. You’re incredible. Is Anthony up?”
“Yup, he’s just getting out of bed.”
As the barista prepared my iced coffee, I spent the next few minutes chatting with my son and listing off reminders, including how much I loved him.
He would leave for Europe soon, and my gut twisted each time I thought about it. However irrational it was, a deep fear of something happening to him had sent me into full helicopter-parent mode.
For the millionth time, Ryan’s ominous text rang through my thoughts. While I wasn’t quite sure what he had meant by “change of home life,” his threat had been clear. If I screwed anything up, this custody battle could start right over.
Gripping my iced coffee, I tried to shake off my building anxiety as I walked toward the gate. I took a deep swig, closing my eyes in satisfaction. Icy liquid suddenly attacked my face as I slammed into the solid chest of a man.
My cup crumpled on impact and fell to the floor after a frigid wave splattered my eyelids. I wiped repeatedly at my eyes, mourning every last drop of caffiene that dripped uselessly off my fingers.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I said. Blinking up, I met the lethal stare of Val Russo.
“Are you kidding me?” His words grated through clenched teeth as he took in the mess now covering his starched button-up.
Any embarrassment I felt hardened into sour irritation. I was in no mood for apologies. Not for him, anyway.
“Are you kidding me?! That was my coffee! In fact, I take that apology back.”
Val’s mouth popped open. “Excuse me? Who runs into someone, then takes back an apology?”
“I only apologize to decent people who deserve it, thank you very much. You happen to be neither of those things.”
Brushing past his incredulous expression, I swiped a few napkins and tried in vain to mop up my face and chest. Thankfully, the stain on my black hoodie wouldn’t show as badly as it did on Val’s stuffy white button-up.
Should I have snapped at him like that? Probably not. But this was Russo. The type of guy who might tell kids Santa wasn’t real while he ate their Halloween candy.
And…it could have had something to do with sleep deprivation and Ryan’s threats, but it was probably mostly Val.
A voice on the overhead speakers called my boarding group, postponing my search for coffee. Groaning, I trudged to the gate.
Kate waved excitedly, her smile faltering as she took in my scowl. “Sheesh, what happened to you?” She scanned the wet stain across my chest.
“Don’t. Ask.”
Seconds later, Val joined the boarding line behind me.
Kate took in Val’s soiled shirt before pressing her laugh into a hard line. “Got it.”
I queued up my boarding pass on my phone and ignored the man behind me. After the gate worker scanned my pass, I crossed the jetway. A male flight attendant greeted us, then directed Kate and Blythe to the left aisle of the plane.
I wearily followed, but he stopped me after glancing at my ticket and gestured down the other aisle. My sluggish mind jolted awake with a horrific realization.
“Are you just going to stand there or go find our seats?” Val growled from over my shoulder.
Five hours. Uncaffeinated. Sitting next to Russo.
Kill me now.
Icemented my forearm to the armrest separating me and Val. If I had to suffer, he had to suffer. Over my dead body would I relinquish that armrest. It felt childish and petty, but I was seething.
Seriously, universe?
My self-control strained to keep me from rushing to the emergency exit and flinging myself out.
Val shifted in his seat, trying to keep any part of his body from brushing mine. His irritated glances at the armrest were increasing in frequency.
I smirked, not caring if I had to do everything left-handed for the next five hours.
The aircraft eventually leveled out, cruising peacefully atop the clouds. Flight attendants fanned throughout the aisles, taking drink orders and distributing snacks. A heavily perfumed blonde leaned over us.
“What can I getcha?” The woman smacked her gum between her hot pink lips.
“A Diet Coke,” I grumbled, “and pretzels.”
“Could I get an Earl Grey tea?” Val asked.
“Okay, princess.” My quiet scoff met its mark, resulting in a twitch in Val’s jaw.
“You betcha, handsome.” She batted her fake eyelashes at Val before sauntering away.
“Oh, jeez.”
“What? It’s not her fault I’m attractive.”
I barked out a harsh laugh. “Cocky much?”
“Nope.”
“Well, in that case, I feel obligated to warn her. You seem like a guy who lines up women and mows them down, machine gun style.”
“And you seem like the kind of woman who will grow old surrounded by cats.”
I could have sworn he glanced at my empty left ring finger. Out of habit, I again reached for my ring, finding smooth skin instead.
My teeth ground together. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough to see why you’re single,” he said, relaxing casually into his seat.
I snapped my gaping mouth shut and spat, “Serial dater.”
“Cat lady.”
My stormy glare reflected off his blazing brown eyes as we stared the other down. Name calling was lame, but my caffeine-lacking brain had short-circuited. Plus this was Val.
“Any woman in her right mind would die to get away from you,” I said.
It was as though my words slapped Val across the face. A haunted glimpse of pain flashed before a deadly expression crept into his eyes.
“And any sane man would eventually abandon you. Wouldn’t blame him either.” He shrugged.
He shrugged.
This time, I almost did slap him. I caught myself instead, slamming my forearm against the armrest and shaking with rage.
“Go jump off a bridge, Russo.”
He didn’t deign to look at me as he responded, “Die alone, Adams.”
The blonde interrupted with our drinks. “Here you go.” She plopped the soda on my tray and dropped a package of pretzels beside it. “And here you go.”
I rolled my eyes as the woman placed Val’s tea on his tray beside a napkin scrawled with her phone number. An imprint of a lipsticked kiss sat atop the black digits.
“Call me.” She winked.
I trained my glare on the headrest in front of me.
If I met Val’s gaze for even a second, I feared I would sucker punch him.
HR wouldn’t forgive that, no matter how tired I was or how much he deserved it.
Besides, losing custody of my son because I punched my co-worker in the face would have definitely been rock bottom.
So I tried to busy myself with my snacks, but even after ten minutes of trying, I still couldn’t open the bag with only my left hand.
The second I vacated the armrest was the one chance Val needed.
His elbow slammed so hard into the plastic, I hoped it would bruise. His upper arm accidentally brushed my shoulder, making my skin crawl. I needed to get away. Now.
After the seatbelt light turned off, I made my way to the aisle. Val winced as I stepped on his toes, though the slight twinge of triumph barely fazed me. In the privacy of the locked bathroom, I let the hot tears of anger flow. Fear hung heavily in my chest.
Val had found the chink in my armor. My lonely life ahead didn’t only seem likely, but rather imminent. Despite it all, no amount of loneliness trumped the terror of the idea of falling in love again. And thanks to Russo, I’d been reminded that both options left me with a fated future of cats.
Blowing my nose, I stared at my reflection in the small mirror. My silver eyes were ringed with red, and so was my nose. Val didn’t know me. He wasn’t worthy of these tears. Flying at thirty thousand feet, I made a promise to myself.
Never again would I let Val Russo make me cry.
Settling back into my seat after a few more toe-crushing stomps, I withdrew a book from my purse. As I straightened up, Val’s gaze cut to mine for a moment, surprise flickering across his face. I knew I wasn’t a pretty crier—more like a mottled tomato—and I did not need him to remind me right now.
A full minute later, Val’s chest seemed to deflate with a long exhale. He picked up his tea and sipped it quietly, his arm returning to his side, though the armrest remained unoccupied.
Glancing curiously at him, I found a foreign expression stamped across his features.
Regret.
I don’t want your pity, Russo.
Ignoring the peace offering, I shifted as much as possible in the small space to face the plane window. The beautiful sunrise lighting the clouds ablaze did little to cheer me up. My eyes wandered aimlessly over the words in my book.
I knew, without a doubt, that I hated Val Russo.